


Phoenix

by yeaka



Category: Halt and Catch Fire
Genre: F/F, Post-Series, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-27
Updated: 2020-03-27
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:15:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23338246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: A quiet moment after a meeting.
Relationships: Donna Clark/Cameron Howe
Comments: 8
Kudos: 34





	Phoenix

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: God, that Mercy Street scene gave me chills.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own Halt and Catch Fire or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

It’s a beautiful chateau in the countryside, so far out of town that it’s dark by the time they get back, but it’s _worth it_ for the million-dollar views out the windows. They pull into the nearly-empty parking lot, the tires grinding to a halt, and Cameron’s foot eases off the gas. She’s a worse driver, but she’s more sober. The hotel looms in front of them, the porch lights on. When Cameron kicks out of the car, it’s colder than she’s ready for. 

At least she has a jacket. She pulls the denim tighter around herself as she heads for the lobby. The gravel crunching under her feet is thunderous in the otherwise quiet air. There are a few crickets in the distance, but that’s all. Then she catches a flicker of red in her peripherals—Donna going the wrong way. 

At first, she thinks maybe Donna slipped back into old habits and had _too much_ at the conference. She was practically asleep on the drive back. But she has to know she’s walking in the wrong direction. Cameron follows her out of the parking lot, across the dew-slicked grass. Donna keeps going around the side of the building, then to the back, away from the rustic wood siding, deeper down along the hill. There’s nothing in the distance but more hills and trees—the city lights are all the other way. Cameron can see her breath when she calls, “Donna.”

Donna finally stops walking. She slips down to her knees, then kicks out of her heels and spreads out along the grass. She rolls onto her back, the sides of her crimson gown already damp from just that little contact. Her orange hair fans out around her like a halo, golden earrings weighted down, thin necklace askew across her pale collarbone. Cameron comes right up beside her and stands there, hovering above. Donna’s always been pretty. She was the day they met and has been every day in between, whether coming into Mutiny’s beat up “office” in dirtied jeans or strutting for Diane in expensive New York fashion. She looks gorgeous in her evening dress, but somehow even better _like this_ , lying in the grass, staring up at the dark sky like they might’ve done back in Texas more than a decade ago. 

Of course, back then, Cameron couldn’t have ever pictured her doing this. Donna was a buttoned up, generic wife and mother, then an independent woman but still so straight-laced and closeted. Cameron knows better now. Donna has a wild streak too, a _genius_ streak, and there’s something strangely endearing about seeing her surrendering to nature like she’s having another existential crisis. 

Cameron breaks the silence again. “The meeting went well.”

Donna nods. She looks breathless, eyes a little glassy, but more because they’re seeing things Cameron couldn’t fathom than because of the alcohol. Cameron says for her, “They’ll definitely buy in.”

Donna finally stirs from her reverie enough to reach out and tug at Cameron’s pant leg. Cameron takes the hint. She collapses in the grass with less grace than her partner, but she feels more at home there. Lying on the warm earth, contemplating her bizarre life choices, is totally Cameron’s gig. She stretches out beside Donna but can’t _quite_ get comfortable—not until she’s shuffled close enough to lean her head on Donna’s shoulder. Donna’s skin is cold but softer than the grass. 

Donna murmurs, “I never actually said sorry.” Automatically, Cameron tenses. She doesn’t know what stirred those memories, but they’re not good ones. It was supposed to be water under the bridge by now. “For Mutiny. For... us. I said things that meant it, but I don’t think I actually said the word. ...Did I...?”

Cameron doesn’t know. There was a time when she had all their bitter fights memorized, and all the half-hearted attempts to make up, but that time’s gone. Now things are back to how they _should_ be. “I honestly don’t care anymore.”

“I appreciate you, you know.”

Donna’s arm shifts, squirming behind Cameron’s head, and then Donna’s talented fingers are brushing back through Cameron’s hair. Cameron smiles up at the sky. Somehow, it’s become easy to answer, “I appreciate you too.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. You did great. And you look...” Cameron pauses, grasping for words, but there are no words to describe how it feels to walk into a room with _Donna Clark_ on your arm. “Amazing.”

Donna laughs. At least she doesn’t protest. She has to know she cleans up nice. Cameron cleaned up a little, but Donna’s definitely the trophy. They’re brains and beauty. Except Donna’s the brains too, and she’s said before she thinks Cameron’s beautiful. Donna’s hand slides down Cameron’s shoulder, as though waiting for Cameron to reach up and hold it. 

Cameron rolls over instead, tossing an arm over Donna’s middle. She nuzzles into place. They’ll have to go back to their room eventually, but for the moment, they lie together: just two more stars on the horizon.


End file.
